Small Favors
by heavensailor
Summary: Loki deals in the currency of favors, not morals, and Tony has a dangerously addictive personality. It's a game they play, arousing one moment and deadly the next, and Tony becomes afraid he won't escape.
1. Control

The first time Tony Stark and Loki Laufeyson are in the same fight and not trying to kill each other, Tony takes a wailing from Skurge, and even the Hulk can't save Iron Man's ass in time (Amora hit soft-spoken, not-green Bruce with some spell that knocked him out like a light). Their battle began on Earth, but Iron Man and the Hulk have followed Thor and Loki to Asgard to finish it.

Loki, locked in a furious, snarling duel with Amora, sees her monstrous lover swat Stark down as though he is no more of a threat than a housefly, and is surprised by the odd pang that jolts through him at the sight. It is momentary, fleeting, almost as though it never happened, but his surprise is enough of an opening for Amora, and Loki suffers for it. But she's grown weary, her aim is off, and his wound, though only superficial, spurs him to finish their combat.

Thor also sees Stark's predicament and rushes, battle-crazed, to his aid. Fueled by rage, the god of thunder unleashes a violent attack on the monster, making short work of him. Amora, now at Loki's mercy, cries out to her defeated, twisted beloved. She reaches him and they disappear, to Loki's chagrin. But even so, he knows they'll be out of commission for a while. Although breathless and pained by the wound she dealt him, he still wears a decided smugness for beating her so soundly.

It's been a while since that debacle with the Chitauri in Manhattan. Loki's mind, still less sane than it was before his fall from Asgard, is once again his own, however broken it may be. He could never be accused of being good, but he's definitely been behaving himself as well as could be expected after a painful, magicless imprisonment. The Asgardians, upset as they may be about the Bifrost, rely on him more than they dislike him. And he's working on the Bifrost situation.

The brothers turn their attention to Iron Man, who lies unmoving on the hard, cold ground, his armor twisted and bent, his limbs sticking out at unnatural angles. Thor rips the gold faceplate off and begins the tedious task of pulling the metal case off Stark's body. Tony, if he lives through this, will be angry at his armor being turned into scraps, Thor knows.

"Stop," Loki orders his brother. "Do not move him. You will exacerbate what damage has already been done."

Thor looks up at him, confused and angry, eyes flashing with defiance. "We must remove this armor if we want to heal him, Loki!" he shouts.

Loki rolls his eyes. Sentiment. Blinding sentiment. "Undoubtedly. But the way you're ripping it, you're likely to tear off one of his limbs. Step away, Thor, and let me see what I can do for him."

"You would help him, brother?" Thor asks suspiciously. Loki has, for the most part, been staying out of trouble, but he knows that, while Loki was helping, he no doubt has his own nefarious reasons for doing so, rather than out of the goodness of his heart.

Loki, concentrating hard, is able to magically deconstruct Tony's armor part by part, and a sweep of his hand sends every scrap neatly into a large pile. Then he takes a deep breath to prepare himself for the real work, and he examines Tony's injuries. Several broken ribs, a nasty-looking compound fracture of the femur. Countless bruises and contusions from the beating the armor has taken color his skin. He is bleeding from the head, and also a little from the mouth. Leaning in close, Loki hears sickening shallow, painful breaths, but Stark is alive nonetheless. Loki feels that brief pang again, but shakes it off dismissively.

The device in the mortal's chest proves a mystery to Loki, and he knows he cannot afford to take the time to find out. Heal Stark now, and the engineer will live to see another day when Loki might ask him about it. The god of mischief starts the healing process, stemming the flow of blood and setting the bones. Mercifully, Tony is unconscious, thus spared being awake for the excruciating pain of a tough healing. Loki mends the broken bones, and once sure of their wholeness, moves on to the internal injuries. He winces at the discovery of metal flecks in Stark's heart.

"Brother?" Thor asks, concerned.

"It is nothing. Stark is a man of surprising secrets, that is all."

Thor does not respond and silently watches his brother work.

The tricky internal injuries taken care of, Loki heals the worst of the bruising and contusions. The wound in his side stings, and his head begins to throb. He has spent almost too much energy on healing Stark. He wants nothing more than to slip away, find a cool, dim place to recover his strength undisturbed.

"Loki, you are unwell." Thor places a supporting hand on his shoulder.

Loki waves him off. "Your friend's wounds were grievous. They required a great deal of energy to heal. I am fatigued, nothing more." He stands, knees wobbling more than he would like.

Thor stands too. "You are leaving?"

"I must recover. I am vulnerable, brother." His tone is low and warning, a sign of his thinning patience and the exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him. "I believe Amora and her slave will not trouble us for some time."

"Go, then. I will bring Stark and Banner back to rest in our halls before returning them to Midgard." Realization flashes across Thor's face. "Banner…"

Bruce is lying, unconscious but otherwise unharmed, a little ways off from them.

"He is in no danger. If the spell has not worn off by the time I am recovered, I will relieve him of it," says Loki with a tired sigh.

"Perhaps then things will be easier between you," replies Thor with a small smile.

Loki sneers at his brother. He has no desire to befriend Thor's human companions, only to avoid confrontation with them and to work with them if absolutely necessary for his own purposes. Not bothering to dignify Thor's small jibe with a response he vanishes, reappearing an instant later in his chambers.

A wave of his hand, and he is rid of his armor and most of his clothing. The relief of being unencumbered by the weight of leather and metal washes over him. He touches his side and winces at the tenderness. A minor injury, hardly worth the energy he could expend to heal it, but it reminds him of his slip in concentration while fighting Amora, which in turn reminds him what caused it.

He is too tired to process that fleeting emotion, what it even was or why the sight of a broken and bleeding Tony Stark should have caused it. The thought of pondering it for too long troubles him as he falls into his bed, but it is soon forgotten as he quickly drifts off to sleep.

)()()(

Loki wakes in the early hours of the morning, fully healed and rested, but surprisingly hungry. He gets out of bed and splashes some water on his face, which puts a bit of life in him. He runs taming fingers through his hair, and with a wave of his hand he is clothed and ready to go down to breakfast. The earliness of the hour gives him hope that he will be able to enjoy his breakfast alone, but he arrives in the dining hall to find Stark already there and, even worse, chatting with Frigga as though the two are old friends.

"Good morning," he says quietly as he takes his place beside his mother, across from Stark.

Tony echoes the response. Frigga greets her son with warmth and a little surprise; it's clear to Tony that she's not used to seeing Loki very often, even after the world domination fiasco, and especially not at mealtimes.

"Mr. Stark has just been telling me of yesterday's events," says Frigga.

"No doubt he has exaggerated one or two details," replies Loki as he helps himself to some fruit.

"I believe I was the one who scared Amora off back on Earth," says Tony, defending himself.

"Yes, and she came here, to my home, where you were promptly beaten to a pulp by her lover." Loki's eyes bore into Stark's with a look that could raze cities, but the mortal only glares back defiantly. "You may not recall, as you were unconscious and bleeding to death."

"Yeah, Thor told me about that."

"No need to thank me."

"I suppose this means I owe you a favor?"

"Only a small one," Loki replies smoothly, the corners of his mouth turn ever so slightly upward in a mischievous smile.

Tony suppresses a shudder at that chaotic glint in Loki's eyes, though not entirely out of fear. He becomes intensely interested in the eggs on his plate.

Frigga glances back and forth between the two men, almost willing the tension to die down. Violence over breakfast usually causes her appetite to vanish. But Loki finishes his meal in silence, and she resumes her conversation with Tony.

Just as Loki prepares to slip away, Thor and Banner enter the hall, and his brother greets them with a thunderous bellow. He resists the urge to rub his temples. Realizing that Banner is awake and apparently perfectly sound, he gives silent thanks that his skills will not be required after all. Amora's spell was relatively harmless (the Hulk's strength and resilience would have been handy in the fight, but Banner himself was unhurt). He wants as little to do with the scientist as possible.

"Already finished, brother?" Thor asks.

"I rose early," he replies.

"And you are well?" the god of thunder presses.

"Yes, Thor, perfectly well." And, knowing it is required of him but resenting it all the same, he adds to Bruce, "I trust you suffer from no ill effects?"

Banner seems nervous and uncomfortable, and he replies somewhat shakily. "None that I can tell, at least."

Loki nods and then says to the others. "If you will excuse me, I've a few pressing matters to attend to." He turns to leave.

"Lemme know about that favor!" Stark calls sarcastically after him.

"Believe me, I intend to," he responds over his shoulder, letting the smallest hint of chaos color his voice.

After Loki leaves, Banner sits down next to Tony and warns, "That is going to come back to bite you."

Tony shrugs, but for some reason he can't help but think he might actually hope it does.

)()()(

Thor enjoys having new friends to show off Asgard to, so Tony and Bruce stay a couple of extra days. Loki has very little to do with them other than occasionally passing one or the other in the hall. Although these instances with Banner tend to speed him along, he twice unexpectedly crosses paths with Stark, and the second time he casts a slightly lingering glance over his shoulder.

Tony can feel Loki's gaze on him, and it takes a good deal of willpower to not look back. It unsettles him, yet it also thrills him. He brushes the thought away, dampening his curiosity by reminding himself that tonight is his last on Asgard, and he will soon be back to Earth business as usual.

Unsurprisingly, Loki is absent from dinner, no doubt in order to avoid Thor's boisterous friends, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. Tony actually doesn't mind Hogun, but Thor, Volstagg, and Fandral make a rambunctious trio, and Sif, while not as uproarious, carries herself with an annoying haughtiness. Bruce is also not at dinner, leaving Tony alone.

He finishes his meal quickly and excuses himself as politely as possible, claiming to want plenty of rest before returning to Earth. Thor bids him a booming goodnight, and Tony makes a beeline for his chambers. He can party with the best of them, but Tony's intellectual capacity demands long periods of solitude between his outrageous parties. He can feel the need for it pressing on his mind, and he breathes a sigh of relief once he is safely alone in his room.

"You seem tense," says a voice low in his ear. "Can't keep up with my big brother?"

Tony jumps and spins around, coming face-to-face with Loki.

"Jesus Christ. What the hell is your problem, sneaking up on me like that?" he demands.

Loki smiles. "It's what I do best."

"Yeah, well, next time it'll be my fist in your face," he threatens. It's lame, and he knows it, but he hates how easily Loki can unsettle him.

The smile widens, but the eyes grow darker. "I'd like to see you try, Stark."

They're centimeters apart, close enough to breathe the same breath, and Tony's heart is racing with something other than fear.

"Why are you here?" he asks. His voice trembles a bit.

Loki reaches up with one hand and places it where Tony's neck and shoulder meet, his long fingers curling around and applying slight pressure. He flicks his thumb across Tony' thrumming carotid.

"Calling in that favor," the trickster replies smoothly, his voice low and dark.

Tony's eyes widen, but he doesn't pull away. "Wh-what did you have in mind?"

Loki's hand trails from Tony's neck down his chest, pausing at the arc reactor glowing through the thin fabric of his shirt, on which he lightly drums his fingers. His other hand sneaks around and up his shirt, his long, cool fingers splayed out across the warm skin of Tony's lower back.

He leans in and whispers in the shorter man's ear, "It is a thing better explained through demonstration rather than words." And then his lips are pressed to Tony's neck; he nips at the sensitive flesh, not enough to wound, but he earns a sharp breath from the mortal inventor, so he follows with soothing licks, which are met with a soft moan.

Tony slides his hands up Loki's chest, wanting to get at the god's skin too, but his efforts are thwarted by Loki's ridiculous leather clothing. Why couldn't Asgardians wear simple clothes? Loki chuckles softly against his neck, and Tony groans in frustration. The god has a few inches on him, and the strength of ten men besides. Tony knows he is not the one in control, a position he is seldom used to.

"Not fair," he mutters.

Loki pulls away slightly to look at him. "Patience." He pushes Tony backwards a little, his intentions clearly aimed at the bed.

Tony reaches up and pulls Loki's lips down to his. It's vicious and glorious, but _fuck_ he needs more. They stumble to the bed, and Tony falls back, pulling Loki down with him. The weight of the god on top of him reminds him of another position he is not used to. He tenses slightly, and Loki notices.

"This is not your first time with a man," he breathes into Tony's lips. He flicks his fingers, and their clothing vanishes. Tony squirms underneath him, reacting to the sudden sensation of flesh against flesh, trying to get as much contact as possible. "But you're usually the one in control," he says, guessing the reason behind Tony's earlier moment of resistance. His lips return to Tony's neck while his hands lazily roam lower, and he practically purrs, "Not tonight, Stark. My favor, my home, my rules. But we'll see just how much you like relinquishing control."

Tony gasps as those clever fingers wrap around his cock and begin to stroke, just slowly enough to tease rather than relieve. He groans, almost hating himself for liking it.

"Fucking get on with it," he growls, and Loki obliges.

"If you insist." He begins kissing down Tony's chest, employing that sinful tongue effectively along the way. He presses a quick kiss to a thigh, and Tony cannot stifle a small cry when Loki takes his cock in his mouth.

It's hot and wet and Jesus fucking _Christ_ they don't call him Silver-tongue for nothing. Loki's fingers rejoin his mouth, and he quickly reduces Tony to a sighing, whimpering mess. Then they're pressing lower, his mouth still working Tony for all he's worth, and the mortal moans as a long, slick finger slides into him.

But even through the haze of his pleasure, Tony manages to ask, "Did you seriously just magically summon lube?"

Loki, still sucking away, laughs, and the resulting humming sensation around his cock elicits a string of curses and moans from Tony. The god adds another finger, and Tony's moaning turns to keening. Loki's fingers and mouth are slightly out of rhythm, driving him almost insane.

"For fuck's sake," he gasps. "Stop being such a fucking tease and just _fuck me_."

Loki looks up, and Tony snarls out another curse as those piercing eyes lock with his, but then then god pulls back. Tony cries out at the absence of that mouth, but Loki's fingers are still inside him, moving, curling, fucking.

"What was that, Stark?" he whispers, low and dangerous.

"_Fuck me_," he grunts through clenched teeth.

"Again?" Loki demands.

"Please, just _fuck_ me." Tony breaks, letting Loki reduce him to begging, because now all he wants is more, more, _more_. "_Please_."

Loki wants total control, and Stark gives it to him. His own erection has been sorely neglected, but he's hard just from watching and feeling Stark react beneath him. It's not exactly the same as getting pleasure by giving pleasure, but rather the thrill of controlling another _through_ pleasure.

Using his magic as he did earlier, he takes himself in hand and prepares to fuck Stark just like he begged. He spreads the other man's legs and gently eases into his tight hole, equally motivated by drawing out his own pleasure and causing as little discomfort as possible. Once fully sheathed, he forces himself to stop, letting Stark get used to feeling every inch. Then he starts to move at an agonizingly slow pace.

He sucks in a breath at the incomparable feeling of that tight, wet heat clenching around his cock. Stark groans and, to his surprise, reaches up and pulls him down for a searing kiss. He props himself on his forearms, battling with Tony's tongue for dominance as he continues to fuck him more rhythmically. The inventor's hands tangle in his hair, attempting to hold his mouth in place, but Loki refuses even that small measure of control.

He slides his lips along Tony's jaw and then down to his neck again. It's a weak spot for Tony, and Loki knows there will be a bruise, but he secretly likes the thought of Stark having to hide such awkward evidence of their encounter the next morning.

Loki draws it out as long as he can stand, but Stark is writhing under him, and his resolve begins to crack. Now he's just fucking him outright, all rhythm lost. His grunts mingle with his lover's moans, and he comes hard, harder than he has in recent memory, and he sinks his teeth into Tony's shoulder as the intense release wracks his body.

Tony cries out at the sudden but not altogether unpleasant pain. Loki, still hard, picks up his pace again and reaches down, once more grasping Tony's cock, this time jerking him fast and relentlessly. He whispers unspeakably dirty things in the inventor's ear, urging him to let go. Loki's cock, fingers, and words soon prove too much for Tony, and he comes hotly in the god's hand.

Loki slowly pulls out and, rolling over to one side, mutters a quick spell to clean them. Tony is still breathing raggedly, his eyes screwed shut, and his fists clenched in the sheets. As mesmerizing as post-coital Stark is, Loki's eyes are inevitably drawn to the glowing device in his chest that is rising and falling with every breath. He wonders as to its purpose, but does not ask.

"Lack of control suits you, Stark. I may have to have you again shortly," he says silkily.

Tony laughs breathlessly and responds, "I only owed you just the one favor."

"Well then, I may have to save your life more often."

Tony has no reply for that, and instead he rolls over on his stomach, effectively extinguishing the blue light of the arc reactor. "Too bright for sleep," he murmurs as he drifts off to sleep.

Loki feels drowsiness settling into his now boneless-feeling limbs, so he lies back, allowing sleep to overtake him.

He is not there when Tony wakes the next morning, neither is he present at their departure. Tony does not know whether or not he himself prefers it that way.


	2. Shame

It's months before they meet again, giving Tony plenty of time to freak out over the implications of his little tryst with Loki. He's still with Pepper, still loves her, still can't live without her. Pepper is the one constant in his life – so why did he think Loki was worth risking everything? Because that's what she is. Everything. But strangely he doesn't feel bad about Loki, like it's not really cheating – he knows that's bullshit, and feels guilty for it.

It's been a long day, but Tony's hardly noticed the hours slipping by as he works on the suit. There was hardly anything left of it after Skurge's pounding, and Loki and Thor had done little to preserve it while removing it from his unconscious body. He pretends to be pissed, but really he likes the challenge.

Warm hands slip around his waist. A soft, curved body presses against his, and a strawberry blonde head rests on his shoulder.

"Hey, Pep," he says, setting down his screwdriver and one of the suit's gauntlets he's been working on.

"Hey, yourself." She presses a soft kiss to his neck.

Tony turns, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to his chest. Things just feel right with Pepper. He doesn't deserve her, and he knows it, but she still loves him, and the thought of not having her in his life is unbearable.

"Long day?" he asks. He kisses her forehead gently.

"Oh, you know, just the usual. Keeping the company afloat, managing new patents, meeting with the board of directors…"

Well, shit. "Was I supposed to go to that?" he asks timidly.

"It would have been nice if the man with his name on the building had been present," she says, sounding only a little cross. "But I handled them just fine."

"Of course you did." He tightens his arms slightly, and she leans in closer.

"Relax tonight?" she asks.

"You read my mind."

It starts out with champagne and just sitting in the living room in front of the fire, enjoying each other's company. They talk, they laugh, and it's easy, so easy to just be this way. To just love Pepper and not worry about getting killed or the Avengers or Asgard. After a while they're snuggling, then kissing, then she's straddling him while he slides his hands up to unhook her bra.

They could move to their room, but the couch is large and comfortable, and the heat from the fire is deliciously arousing. Pepper has one hand down Tony's pants, and the other rests on his arc reactor. He places a hand over hers and pulls her down to his lips, fingers tangled in her hair. They share a searing kiss like that, the arc reactor between them, Pepper working Tony just the way to drive him crazy.

"Oh, Pep," he murmurs into her lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Then he feels her smile against his lips. "Come on, Tony. Show me."

He knows exactly what she wants, and he's more than willing. Soon Pepper is on her back with Tony between her legs, sucking and licking while she moans for more. _Fuck_ she tastes _so good_, and she's fucking gorgeous like this. She's looking down at him, and Tony meets her gaze with his own dark eyes. It's almost too much for her.

"S-stop!" she cries, and he does.

"Why?" he asks, moving his lips to the soft skin of her thigh. "Seems like you're enjoying it." He smiles wickedly up at her.

"I'd like to enjoy a little more of you," she purrs.

He crawls up her body, trailing kisses over her pale skin. His hands slide up her sides as he turns his previous attentions to her soft, supply breasts, and she arches under his touch. Pepper sighs and brings her fingers up to run them through his hair. He turns his face into her hand, kissing her palm.

"Tony," she says gently, caressing his cheek, "we're forgetting something."

He stops, groans, and reluctantly sits up, pulling her with him. "Well, then this would be a good time to move this to the bedroom."

**)()()(**

Later, Pepper's curled up next to Tony, her strawberry blonde tresses tousled and cascading over her shoulders. She drifted off to sleep after a few minutes of afterglow cuddling, and Tony, still blissed out, feels his eyelids growing heavy.

"JARVIS, lights," he murmurs, and the darkness washes over them. Tony pulls the think duvet up to cover his arc reactor. If its blue light, surprisingly bright in a dark room, has ever bothered Pepper, she's never mentioned it.

After a few minutes of just lying there feeling the gentle rise and fall of Pepper's warm chest against him, Tony's breaths begin to synchronize with hers, and he eventually falls asleep.

He doesn't usually dream, or, if he does, he never remembers it. But this dream is different. It's been recurring off and on for a couple of months now, but tonight it's so, so vivid, engaging all his senses. How can just a figment from his subconscious seem so tangible?

He feels cool hands on his body, his own hands running over a form that feels at once strange and yet familiar. There are hard lines where there should be soft curves, and the skin is oddly cool, not warm like he expects. He knows this body; he's lusted after this body, and it doesn't belong to Pepper.

A voice is whispering in his ear. It's a dark and silky voice, almost cloying, like wine or maybe a few other substances Tony's tried. He doesn't understand the words; they're in a language he's never heard. But those words slide over and in him and he's so fucking turned on. It's almost unbearable. He doesn't feel guilty like he knows he should, but there's nothing he wants more in this moment than to feel more of that body and listen endlessly to that delicious, dangerous voice.

He gasps, and he's suddenly awake, far too aroused for just a dream. Even with the window filters, he can tell it's morning. Pepper is still sleeping, sprawled out next to him. He doesn't want to wake her, but the clock says it's almost nine, and Pepper doesn't like to waste the morning. He rolls over to gently wake her up, and then stops. He's still hard.

It's not as though it's all that unusual for Tony. In fact, he's spent many an enjoyable morning with Pepper this way. Only this time it's not Pepper he's been fantasizing about, and he's none too eager to confront that. So instead of waking her, he slips out of bed and makes a beeline for the shower.

The best course of action would be to just stand there under the water until things die down. Tony knows this, but the dream is still fresh in his mind, so he takes himself in hand and starts jerking off, something he hasn't done in a while. He hasn't needed to. Even before he and Pepper were together, if he wanted sex, there were always more than willing options. He feels like a horny teenager.

He can't get the dream out of his head, but what really sends him over the edge is that voice. The way it filled him up in his dream feels more intimate than any act he's ever performed or has been performed on him. He imagines a mouth in place of his hand, a clever tongue teasing him until he comes with a shudder, nearly falling to his knees with the force of it.

Tony finishes his shower, his shame growing. He's just jerked off to the memory of someone he should never have been with, someone whose name he is too ashamed to say aloud or even think. And he's not ashamed because he's a man or because he was Earth's would-be ruler or even because he's an alien.

It's because what Tony feels is not love or even lust – it's _need_, and not the way he needs Pepper. It's need like the days of his drowning in alcoholism, it's need like wanting one thing to the exclusion of all else. It scares him. And he's just given in to it – how many more times will he? If ever again faced with the man himself, God forbid, will he be able to stop himself?

He realizes he's shaking, maybe because the water has run cold, but most likely because, for the first time since his capture in Afghanistan, Tony is well and truly afraid. He shuts off the water and steps out, grabbing a towel and drying himself. As he pulls on clean clothes, he hears Pepper stirring in the bedroom. _Pepper_, he reminds himself. She's important, she's who matters.

"Morning," he says, stepping back into the room as he runs his fingers through his still damp hair.

"Tony, why didn't you wake me up?" she asks with a yawn. She stretches, emphasizing her curves.

"You were out like a light. Figured I'd let you sleep in," he says, smiling at her. "You've earned it this week." His expression turns more serious. "Sorry I've been slacking off lately. I should've been helping you more."

"It's alright, Tony." She smiles warmly at him and reaches for her robe. "Tony?"

"Hm?" He realizes he's just been staring off. "Oh, sorry."

"Are you alright?" she asks, pulling on her robe and walking over to him. "You seem kind of off."

He shakes his head and pulls her into an embrace. "I'm fine. Just had a bad dream."

She wraps her arms around him. Pepper thinks the nightmare was about Afghanistan. He might not remember it, but he had them regularly when he first got back. He would wake up in the morning, still tired, ill-tempered, knowing that his sleep had been restless but not knowing what his dreams were. He still had them from time to time. She hears him mumble in his sleep, calling Yensin's name.

"Maybe we should just take it easy today," she mumbles. "I have one meeting, but it can easily be rescheduled."

He gasps in mock surprise. "Pepper Potts, voluntarily suggesting the cancelling of a meeting? JARVIS, call Fury! I think Pepper's been taken over by aliens."

She giggles and swats at him.

"Highly unlikely, sir," JARVIS replies calmly.

Tony smiles, pulling her in for a kiss. "Don't worry about me, Pep," he murmurs into her lips. "You go to your meeting. It'll bother you all day if you don't go. I've got some work I need to finish up anyway. We've got the whole afternoon to chill on the beach."

"Well," she says, considering, "when you put it like that… Alright. The meeting shouldn't take too long. I'll be back by three at the latest."

"It's a date," he says. They share a not so chaste kiss before he leaves her to get ready for the day.

**)()()(**

Pepper calls at half past three.

"Tony, I'm really sorry, but a few things have come up here at the office." She sounds pissed as hell. "I'm going to have to stay late."

Tony resists the urge to sigh. He's been looking forward to just relaxing on the beach for a change. He can't remember the last time he's actually enjoyed the private beach he paid for, and this is the first time he's been back in Malibu since the Chitauri incident.

"It's alright," he says. "We'll do something tomorrow. Just don't work yourself out, Pepper."

"I won't. You'll be alright, won't you?"

"I'll be fine, Pep. I've got plenty to occupy me here. No worrying, alright?"

She sighs. "Okay. I'll see you tonight, late. I love you."

"I love you, too."

JARVIS ends the call, and Tony goes back to work. After the fight with Skurge, he's been experimenting with some major modifications with the suit, but after working on it all day, he decides to switch to something else for a while. He picks up a piece of glass, part of a new display that needs tweaking.

"Love, Stark? Are you sure?" says a voice in his ear.

He springs out of his seat, knocking half a dozen tools and scraps of metal to the floor with a loud _clang_. Miraculously, the glass in his hand remains intact.

"FUCK!" he shouts.

Loki's grinning like the devil, those blue eyes crackling with chaos. "Miss me?"

"How the _fuck_ did you get in here?" Tony demands, mentally going all the ways his security should have prevented something like this.

"Where are your manners, Stark?" Loki asks. He casually leans against the worktable, picks up a tool and examines it with mild interest. "Given the nature of our last meeting, I expected a somewhat… _warmer_ welcome."

Tony is trembling slightly, too angry to speak at first. He just glares at Loki, hoping to rid him by sheer force of will. The workshop is Tony's sanctuary, his holy of holies; how dare Loki show his face here, in the one place he can feel safe, unhindered by the worries of the outside world.

Suddenly, there is a searing pain in his hand, and he looks down to find a latticework of small, deep cuts oozing blood. He's accidentally shattered the pane of glass, having gripped it with more force than he realized. The bloody fragments tinkle to the floor.

"_Shit_," he hisses. Momentarily forgetting Loki, he looks around, spies a pair of forceps on the table, and grabs them with the intention of pulling out the tiny shards of glass embedded in his palm.

"Here," says Loki, and he grabs Tony by the arm, quicker than lightning. "That will take too long, and you will only cut yourself further."

Tony wants to rip himself from Loki's grasp, but he's frozen to the spot as he watches the god spread out his fingers over Tony's hand and begin to whisper a spell. The glass pieces slide out easily and vanish into thin air. The intonation of Loki's spell changes, and Tony's skin begins to knit itself back together, and it stings like a bitch. Tony actually gasps once or twice from the pain of healing.

A few moments later, and his hand, though the blood is still there, is completely healed. Loki does not let go. He brings Tony's hand to his face, inhales for a moment, then licks the bloody palm. Tony's eyes widen, transfixed and horrified, but the sensation of Loki's tongue sliding across his skin goes straight to his groin.

"You're a sick fucking bastard, Loki," he growls.

The mad god laughs. "No truer words have ever been spoken, Stark," and he pulls Tony in for a vicious kiss.

Tony can taste his own blood on Loki's tongue, but he feels himself only growing harder, and he curses his inability to be repulsed, his _weakness_ when it comes to Loki's games. But despite himself, he's pulling Loki's hips to his, seeking release. Suddenly, the god pulls back.

"It seems I've helped you again, Stark," he whispers, licking the shell of Tony's ear.

"It's my hand, not my life." Tony shifts slightly, trying to increase the friction. "But I guess I still owe you."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Loki places his hands on Tony's shoulders and presses down insistently. Tony hesitates for a heartbeat, and then he's on his knees, working Loki's cock out of those ridiculous leather pants Asgardians are so partial to. He takes Loki in his mouth, and those long, pale fingers tangle in his hair, encouraging him. He goes slowly at first, licking and sucking and teasing. Loki whimpers a little and bites his lip, and Tony finds it incredibly sexy. After a few minutes, the god's grip tightens, and he starts moving his hips. Tony's never sucked anyone off like this before, with his knees pressing painfully into a hard concrete floor, his head held firmly in place as he's face-fucked.

With his other hand, Loki grips the worktable hard, his head thrown back in ecstasy. He's moaning and cursing under his breath. He looks down, eyes locking with Tony's, pouring out all that lust and chaos. Tony wants that burning gaze to leave scorch marks. Unable to hold off any longer, he slips his hand inside his jeans and starts to stroke himself in earnest.

The god tenses, and Tony can tell he's about to come. But Loki suddenly pushes him away, and the engineer looks up in confusion. Loki pulls him to his feet.

"I haven't much time tonight, Stark," he whispers breathlessly. "But as tempting as it is to watch you swallow every last drop and leave you to finish, you've already had to do that once today, and even I am not that cruel."

Tony doesn't have time to process that revelation before his jeans are being shoved down and his hips pulled against Loki's. He groans at the feeling of Loki's cock sliding against his, and the next few minutes are a blur of sweat and moans as they stand there rutting against each other like animals. Loki slips a hand between them to speed things along, and Tony idling wonders why he's in such a hurry.

Their tongues writhe in rhythm with their thrusts, and when they come, they swallow each other's moans.

As though he's been drained of all energy, Tony stumbles back and collapses into his chair, breathing hard. Loki cleans himself with magic and adjust his clothing, preparing to leave.

"Wait," says Tony. Loki looks at him expectantly. "We can't – we can't keep doing this. It's way too fucked up."

"As if that has ever stopped me from doing anything," says the god dismissively. "Or you, for that matter."

"I… I have Pepper, and you're too… dangerous." Tony sighs, frustrated and angry. "I hate you."

"That's a lie." Loki pauses. "Well, perhaps not. But it does not matter."

"Don't you understand?" Tony almost shouts. "This is going to kill me. Don't come back here. Please," he hates the fear cracking in his voice, "just leave me be."

"I like you, Stark," says the god. Tony looks up in surprise. "You're _interesting_. You have no idea how… how _maddening_ it is out there. They are all of them idiots. I am insane, I know I'm insane, oh gods, how I know that." He shudders as if remembering something horrible. "When I saved your life, I did it because I couldn't bear to see you go to waste."

"So to you I'm just a toy to keep you occupied?" Tony snarls. "I'm not your bitch, Loki. You can't just show up and fuck me whenever the hell you feel like it. Don't think I won't get Thor and Fury on your ass. They'll sew that mouth of yours back up and lock you away for good."

In a flash, Loki's practically on top of him pressing a knife to his throat.

"Do not threaten me ever again," he hisses. "I do not want to harm you, Stark, but I can make you beg for death if it suits me, and I _will_ enjoy it."

Tony doesn't move a muscle; he doesn't even dare to breathe.

Loki gets off and turns to leave.

"I'll be back," he says, not looking at Tony, "when next you are in my debt."

"Never," Tony growls. "I'll never owe you for anything ever again. Stay out of my head. If I catch you spying on me, I swear to God…" But his words die on his lips. He's so exhausted, so defenseless. He hasn't cried in God knows how many years, but tears of anger and shame and fear begin to well up in his eyes.

The god's lips twitch into a mischievous half-smile, and Tony knows in that moment that Loki will never let him go. It's a game he will play until the day he dies.

"We'll see, Stark," Loki says in that low, smooth voice. "Perhaps one day I'll owe _you_ a favor."

He vanishes, leaving Tony alone to let his tears fall.


	3. Burn

Tony can't believe he's stuck in Paris, alone. Pepper is supposed to be there as well, but a few unexpected company obligations are unavoidably in dire need of her attention. She'll be joining him in a couple of days, but for now he is on his own. Some big gala involving some charity. A week in Paris. And all Tony wants is to be back in his workshop.

It's been eight months since that threatening encounter with Loki. What's worse, there's been more. More seductive dreams that hardly allow him to close his eyes for fear of falling asleep; more mind-bending trysts in the shadows, half a dozen at least. He can't help himself. He hates it and yet, he needs it as well. Loki is always unexpected – Tony can never predict when he's just going to turn up wanting a fuck. But as much as he fears those moments, he craves them. In some of the longer gaps between visits, he's started to rely on the dreams to ease his suffering.

And by now Pepper knows something is wrong. She knows he isn't sleeping well. Sometimes he holds her like she's the most fragile, precious thing on earth, and then suddenly he'll pull away, not even able to look at her. She can't tell if it's guilt or fear or worse… She's seen Tony at his lowest before. Is he drinking again and has just gotten better at hiding it? Is it shame? But shame isn't Tony's play.

He can see all that in her face every time she looks at him. She's trying to figure it out without having to ask him. Is Paris a test? He can't help but wonder.

Tonight there is the expected wining and dining of various VIPs, the sort of glad-handing he's obligated to participate in, but he hates every moment of it. Occasionally having photos of Iron Man-related business turn up in tabloids now and then is one thing, but since the Avengers formed, Tony has sworn off overly public appearances, partly on Fury's orders. And he's just fine with that.

After leaving the dinner, already slightly drunk from the amount of alcohol he's been forced to consume just to keep from going insane amidst a crowd of insipid social climbers and condescending millionaires, Tony finds Happy waiting for him with the car to take him back to the hotel. He hesitates; he needs some air.

"You know what, Hap? I think I'll walk. Take the night off."

"You sure, boss?" Happy asks, seeming doubtful. Has he noticed the change in Tony over the last few months as well? Has Pepper confided in him at all?

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just need to clear my head," he replies, loosening his tie and tossing his jacket into the car. "I'll be back in a while."

Happy nods and drivrs off back in the direction of the hotel, and Tony starts walking the opposite way, rolling up his sleeves and breathing in the crisp air as he strolls. But instead of feeling refreshed, he just feels miserable. He wishes Pepper were there. He needs her. Maybe being alone with his thoughts isn't such a good idea. Maybe he's alone too much.

He wanders aimlessly, following the streets and little paths not caring where they lead. He crosses the Seine at some point, stopping halfway across to gaze down at the dark water. The glistening lights of the city reflected on the surface and the murmur of the waves are almost hypnotic. He doesn't know how long he stands there. Too long. He shakes himself out of his dark pondering and continues walking.

After a while he finds a small, seedy-looking bar almost hidden away on a side street. Tony knows that he shouldn't drink anymore for the night, but he's never been one to be called reasonable. The place is shady, to say the least. It's dark, hardly any lighting at all, and cloudy with cigarette smoke. He doesn't care. He sits at the bar and orders a martini, waiting impatiently as the sounds of the other patrons carry on around him. There are couples slinking in dimly lit corners, practically fused at the lips and hips. Snatches of hollow conversations, hollow laughs. Practically everyone has a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other if it isn't already down someone else's pants. Normally Tony would be repulsed, disgusted at the sad spectacle of the desperate, soulless people around him. Even at his worst, he's never been that low.

But the heady scents of sex and alcohol are dragging him under like a drug. He feels the tension that has gripped his body most of the night uncoil, and he relishes the smooth burn of the drink sliding down his throat. He orders another. Then another. Too much, far too much, he knows, but he is alone in Paris. His skin feels like it's on fire; he needs Pepper. He's going to do something reckless, and he hates the inevitability of it. She's thousands of miles away, and Loki…

It's been two months since the last time, the longest that Loki has stayed away, and it's been days since any hint of one of his dreams. Tony even feels worried for a moment… What if something has happened to Loki? But surely he'd already know through Thor. The Avengers assembled once again just over a week ago… If something had been wrong with his brother, Thor would have said something.

Unless, Tony thinks, Thor knows. Or at least suspects. Tony just assumed that Loki was merely up to his old tricks, flitting around the galaxy stirring up mischief, busy with his own schemes and coming to Tony when the mood struck him. But what if he's just as desperate as Tony? What if Loki thinks about him just as constantly?

Tony shakes himself out of that thought. It's insane. Loki is just a selfish bastard, who treats him like no more than a fuck toy to do with whatever he wishes, whenever he wishes. Tony knows _he _is the one who suffers, who lives in dread and burning need. And now he's paranoid that he's already been found out, that Happy knows, that Thor knows.

He's startled when a soft hand lightly touches him on the arm. He turns to find a striking-looking woman sitting next to him, regarding him with mild interest. She has raven black hair and astonishingly blue eyes. The corners of her full, teasing mouth are turned upward in an amused expression. Her skin is soft and pale, like alabaster. She's wearing a deep green dress with a plunging neckline and a slit so far up her thigh, Tony's imagination doesn't have too much work to do.

"It's Mr. Stark, isn't it?" she asks, her voice rich and sultry. She sounds English.

"Tony," he says. She is astonishingly attractive. There is something so absolutely gripping about her face. What is she doing here, in this dingy little hole that barely passes for a bar? "What's a woman like you doing in a place like this?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Mr. Stark." She smiles fully, revealing brilliant white teeth. It's almost predatory.

Tony flushes with lust. "We've all got to escape sometimes, you know?" God, he's already imagining the things he could do with this woman.

"Hm," she says, leaning closer to him. "I know _exactly_ what you mean." Her hand drops onto his leg and slides sensuously up his thigh. "Maybe you'd like to escape with me tonight?"

He feels his cock growing hard. He shouldn't, he knows he shouldn't. Loki is one thing, but another woman… That he cannot bring himself to do to Pepper. Yet there is something about this woman that seems so… familiar. His body is shamefully betraying him. The alcohol dulls the alarms ringing in his head, and all he can feel was the fabric between her skin and his. He can't tear himself away.

The woman leans in, her mouth just a hair's breadth from his ear, and she slides her hand to cover the bulge in his pants, stroking him lightly. His eyes flutter shut as he inhales sharply; she breathes her next words, "Or perhaps I should just leave you alone for another two months, Stark."

Tony's eyes fly open. "_Loki_," he hisses. He instinctively wants to push the woman Loki away, but he's rooted to the spot as she continues to stroke him. Her lips are now on his throat, finding just the right spot to drive all reason out of his head.

As always, the fear, guilt, and shame fill his chest. But they are overpowered by the excitement of Loki's return, by the thrill of the arousal now coursing through him. He wants to see more of Loki's new form; Tony idly wonders if he changes bodies often…

As though sensing his thoughts, Loki takes hold of his arm and nods towards the door. "Come with me, Stark," she says and flashes him that mischievous smile. Even a new body can't change that smile.

Tony throws down a bill for his drinks and eagerly follows her out of the bar. They can't go back to his hotel, and Tony doubts Loki has a place of her own. Horny and impatient, he just pulls her into the alley behind the bar, pushing her against a wall and pressing himself along the length of her body. These aren't the hard, masculine lines he's used to with Loki, but the soft curves excite him just as much.

Loki laughs as Tony ravages her neck, kissing, sucking, and even giving a few playful bites. "Eager tonight, aren't we?" she asks. "If I'd known you missed me so much…"

Tony silences her with a searing kiss, fighting with her tongue for dominance. To his surprise, Loki lets him have it. Is he in control for once? He pushes the straps of her dress down, freeing her soft, pert breasts from the thin, silky material. He teases her nipples, rolling them gently between his fingers, and his lips return to her neck. Loki moans, low and richly, and slips her hand down Tony's pants to take him in her hand once more.

From her neck Tony kisses his way down to her breasts, licks and sucks for a moment before dropping down to his knees. He pushes the fabric of her dress up to her waist, revealing that she is wearing no underwear. Tony can't help but smirk. Loki smiles wickedly down at him. She raises one leg over his shoulder, giving him better access.

He runs a finger along her wet slit, sliding those juices over the pink folds of her labia. Loki gazes down at him hungrily, her blue eyes darkening with lust, almost pleading him. "I want to taste you," Tony murmurs against her thigh.

"Please, Stark…" Loki moans.

The 'please' catches him off guard, and he hesitates a moment before pressing his lips against her warm, slick cunt. He licks slowly at first, teasing, purposefully avoiding her clit. Loki makes a frustrated noise.

"Do not make me beg, Stark," she hisses, and Tony knows not to press his luck.

He sucks hard on her clit, and Loki gasps. Tony keeps up a relentless rhythm, switching to plunge his tongue into her folds before returning to that sweet little nub. She still tastes like Loki, which he didn't expect; it's only making him hungry for more. Loki whimpers and sighs above him, lost in the sensation of his tongue and lips.

"S-Stark," she stammers, "stop… n-now. I'm s-so close."

Tony stops and stands once again. Loki impatiently pulls his hips against hers, tugging at his belt and zipper. She hoists herself up a bit for a better angle, and he presses up, slowly sliding into her.

"_Fuck_," he curses. "Loki…"

She captures his mouth once again and grinds her hips in rhythm with his as he fucks her hard against the wall. They're all grunts and moans and sweat.

"Come on, Stark," she pants. "I want you to bite me."

"What?" Tony asks, only vaguely aware of what she's saying as she clenches around his cock. She's very, very close.

"_Bite me_. Like I bit you our first night," she demands.

Tony isn't sure, but he remembers the jolt that shocked through him when Loki had bitten him. Painful, but also incredibly arousing. He kisses his way down her neck, nipping lightly along her collar bone. He presses his lips to her shoulder, almost not wanting to hurt the beautiful skin, but Loki is so desperately close. Tony bites down, hard.

Loki gasps, crying out as she comes, and Tony paints the bite with soothing licks as she rides out her orgasm. She slumps against him as he continues to thrust into her. Now he's close as well, but since Loki has finished, Tony wants to change their positions.

He steps back, and Loki slides off him, still in a post-climax haze. But she knows instantly what Tony wants, and she quickly turns them both, pushing him against the wall. She strokes him teasingly for a moment, then drops to her knees. Tony needs to see that pretty, kiss-swollen mouth around his cock.

Loki doesn't waste any time. She takes his whole cock, sucking him furiously. Tony's eyes slide shut as he loses himself to the feeling of her hot, wet mouth around him. He's nearly there, almost, just a little more…

He opens his eyes to find Loki – returned to his normal male form – gazing up at it him, those blue eyes piercing straight through him, and Tony can hold on no longer. He comes, shuddering and gasping, and Loki swallows every drop, never breaking eye contact. Tony groans as the last waves of his orgasm quake through him; Loki smiles, less mischief on his lips now and more… does he seem genuinely pleased, or is Tony only imagining it?

Loki stands, now dressed in simple Asgardian clothing; Tony slumps against the wall, readjusting his own clothes. The god moves away as if to leave, but Tony reaches out to pull him close.

"Too long," he whispers.

"I know," Loki replies, his voice slightly rough, the mask slipping just a little. He bends to gently rest his forehead against Tony's. "I am sorry. But I've been busy. And I thought it best to come now, when you were away from… that woman."

Tony tenses, suddenly defensive. He shoves Loki away. "Fuck you," he spits. Oh, Pepper. How can he keep betraying her like this? He's too selfish to let her go. He's too weak to fight against Loki, but he won't let himself give her up. This self-loathing is always inevitable after these encounters. The pleasure is brief, fleeting, and then he's left with nothing but his hate.

Loki pulls him back, but this time his grip is harsh, painful. "You're _mine_, Stark," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't like to share; be grateful I still let you keep her."

Tony feels sick. He doesn't _keep_ Pepper, not like Loki keeps _him_. He should end it with both of them; he doesn't deserve Pepper, and Loki is going to get him killed. And if the god so much as touches her…

"Stay away from Pepper," he growls. "Do what you want with me; fuck me to death, torture me – I don't care. But I won't let you touch her."

"You think you can stop me?" Loki says, laughing hollowly. "I have no interest in her; jealousy, I admit, because you're _mine_, but I care nothing for the woman herself. But know that she lives and she continues to sleep in your bed because I _allow_ it, Stark, and _that_ is no small favor."

Tony is speechless, filled with rage, but also wonder. Does Loki… actually care something for him? He shakes himself. How can he even ask these questions? The Asgardian has just threatened Pepper's life, and he's worried about whether or not he _cares_. Loki cares only for himself, and he's just manipulating Tony into thinking there's a stronger attachment, just to keep him needy, addicted…

But even so, he cannot stop his next words. "If you think I'll believe that you suffer as much as I do… I _hate_ you, Loki. But I can't stop… I can't. Please, it's torture just being strung along like this. How much longer do you think I'll last before all this kills me?"

For once, Loki doesn't have a reply. He lets go of Tony and turns away. He takes a few steps then stops, hesitating.

"I won't give you up, Stark," he says, not facing Tony. "You're _mine_, and I _burn_ for you."

He disappears into thin air. Tony vomits before stumbling back into the shadows.

**)()()(**

He doesn't know how he musters the determination to return to his hotel instead of just passing out in that alley, but Tony somehow manages it. It starts to rain as he slowly, painfully makes his way back. That alone almost causes him to give up and crawl into a ditch. But he finally makes it, stumbling and shaking from the cold, drunkenness, and shame. To his surprise, Happy's there to meet him.

"Jesus, Tony," the bodyguard says as he helps him through the lobby to the elevator. "Do you know how worried we were?"

"We?" Tony mumbles, resigning himself to being half-dragged by Happy to his room.

"Yeah, Pepper got here about an hour ago. Finished up her business early and took the jet. She's going to be pissed." Happy sounds worried, but whether it's for Tony or for himself, Tony can't tell.

Tony swears, but he's bizarrely happy that Pepper has arrived earlier than planned. He's a drunk, soaking mess, but God, does he need her now. He will apologize, he will grovel, he will make her see that he was just going through a stressful time, if only to just hold her.

When they get to the suite, however, Pepper's just glad that Tony is alive. She's still wearing her suit and stilettos. She's upset, but not pissed off. At least, not yet.

"Oh my God, Tony, where have you been?" she asks. She's close to tears. "It's three in the morning."

Head still hazy, body wracked with guilt and pain, Tony can't bring himself to lie. "I fucked up, Pep. Jesus, I've fucked up."

She looks really worried then, as does Happy, and he knows that they are wondering just what he means. He's drunk, obviously, and while that – due to his past struggles with alcoholism – is a problem, it isn't the worst that could be.

"It's going to be alright, Tony," Pepper says softly, gently brushing her fingers against his cheek. "So you went out and drank too much and got lost. It's not the end of the world."

He's speechless with amazement. He expected yelling, angry tears (which doesn't necessarily mean that they won't come later), but Pepper is so… _controlled_. Comforting.

"I'll get him cleaned up," says Happy, pulling Tony in the direction of the bathroom. "Don't worry, Pep. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let him go."

"Really, don't be hard on yourself, Happy," she says quietly. "I'll just be out here getting ready for bed."

Once in the huge bathroom, Happy helps Tony peel off his rain-soaked, vomit-stained clothing before dumping him unceremoniously into the bathtub. He turns the shower on and tosses Tony a bar of soap.

"I'm not scrubbing you down, boss," he says, taking a seat on the closed toilet.

"Fair enough," Tony grumbles as he begins to soap himself up.

Happy watches him with a worried, even slightly angry, expression. "You know, you've been off lately," he says. "Pepper's been really worried about you. So what's your deal? And don't give me some bullshit lie about alcoholism. Despite tonight, you haven't been drinking any more than usual. So what is it?"

Tony regards Happy as much more than a chauffeur and bodyguard; he's a friend, and one of the few who has to put up with him on a regular basis. But Happy won't even begin to understand about Loki.

"Is it another woman?" Happy asks. "Because if it is, then I might have to hurl you through a window. Pepper's a good friend, and you won't get off with that shit."

Tony grimaces. He wishes Happy had chosen a threat other than defenestration. "No, it's not another woman. I wouldn't do that to Pepper." The ironic thing is that it somehow isn't a lie.

"But you're not going to tell me," says his bodyguard.

"Look, Happy, I'm drunk, I've got a splitting headache, and I've managed to acquire a colorful collection of bruises on my trek through Paris tonight. It's not the alcohol. It's not another woman." He rinses his hair and turns off the water.

"Fine. I believe you," says Happy, handing him a towel. "But if you won't talk to me, then you've gotta talk to Pepper."

Tony makes no reply as he dries himself off and pulls on pajama pants and his favorite Black Sabbath shirt. Then he and Happy catch sight of a particularly horrid-looking bruise on his left forearm.

"Christ, Tony, are those _finger marks_?"

He silently curses. Tripping drunkenly through the rainy streets of Paris has earned him a few accidental bruises and scrapes, but he didn't realized before just how tightly Loki gripped him in that last threat.

"Just a little scuffle with some asshole in a bar," he says. It's an easy enough lie. "Nothing too violent."

Happy doesn't say anything, but Tony notices the change in his demeanor. He can tell the bigger man's bullshit alarms are sounding, but the lie is too plausible for him to call it out. They return to the main suite, and the bodyguard exits somewhat stormily, leaving Tony to Pepper.

He opens his mouth to start apologizing, but she cuts him off. "It's done, Tony. Let's just go to bed and forget about it."

"Pepper, I –"

"No. I'm tired, Tony." She climbs into bed and turns off her lamp, leaving them in semi-darkness, broken only by the glow of his arc reactor.

Tony doesn't like that. She sounds almost defeated. Like she's just stopped caring. He slightly stumbles over and crawls in beside her, hoping she won't push him away.

"I'm so sorry, Pepper," he murmurs. "Please, I don't know what's happening to me… I just need you. You're keeping me alive right now."

She wraps her arms around him, pulling him close, almost like a mother holding a child. "What? Tony, don't say things like that. It scares me. Whatever it is, stress, the Avengers, I don't know, but please, don't say that."

"I don't know what to do." His voice breaks. "I'm tired, and I'm… afraid."

"Afraid of what?" she whispers.

"Of losing everything. And it's my fault. I can't stop, but it's killing me." He can't stop his tears from falling. He cries into her shoulder. She's trembling slightly, but she has to give him some strength. She can't cry with him like she wants to.

"What is? Tony, you're scaring me now." She hugs him even more tightly.

"Cap was right," he says bitterly, unable to stop crying. "He's always right, God damn him."

Pepper sighs, frustrated by his inconsolability. It hurts deeply to see him like this, but it'll just have to ride itself out. "Right about what?" she asks.

"I can't make the sacrifice play."

"Tony, what – We both know that's not true. You've sacrificed so much more than people think you have. You've lost so much…"

"Not nearly as much as I could still lose," he mutters.

"Shh, now." She kisses his burning forehead. "You're not Steve Rogers, Tony. But you're still a hero."

"You're wrong," he sighs, exhausted by his tears. "I'm not a hero. I'm not a soldier. I'm just fucked up."

Pepper's tears finally fall, trickling down her cheeks and onto Tony's head. He draws in a shuddering breath, sobs silently wracking his body. She rocks them gently, trying to stop her own tears.

"We're alright," she whispers into the darkness, shaking as she holds Tony's too-warm body. "We're alright. We're alright."


	4. Fear

That night in Paris shakes them all. Once they're back in New York and able to make it through a night without crying, Pepper decides to go home to Malibu for a couple of weeks – alone. It's a much-needed vacation, and Tony doesn't blame her. But he is filled with dread at her departure, because she's leaving him exposed, vulnerable. They've clung to each other as if for dear life, Tony trying to stay just barely afloat, Pepper trying to keep him from slipping away. But after a few weeks and many tears shed, Tony's horrific nightmares that shake the bed and his screams that crawl under Pepper's skin, she can't take it anymore.

"I'm taking the jet to Malibu. I'll be back in a couple of weeks."

He doesn't protest. He nods mutely, knowing it was inevitable.

"I'm coming back Tony," she tells him, placing a gentle palm on his cheek to reassure him. "I promise."

He nods again, still unable to speak, exhausted from what little terrible sleep he's had.

"Happy will be here if you need to go anywhere. And I've called Bruce; he's coming to check on him."

He looks up at that. "Bruce?" he manages to say, his voice hoarse.

"I didn't want to leave you alone with Jarvis, but, Tony, I… I have to go. You understand that, right?"

He pulls her into his arms in response, embracing her carefully. He feels brittle, ready to shatter at any moment. The hug is brief, and he lets her go abruptly.

"You should go. Happy's waiting for you," he whispers.

She kisses him on the cheek and then she's gone. The instant she leaves the building, he growls at Jarvis to put the tower into lockdown. No one is getting inside until Pepper gets back.

Tony retreats down to the lab with a couple of clear bottles, then disables all the elevators. He puts on the suit and drinks. He waits and drinks. He vomits and drinks. He drinks until he passes out in the suit.

)()()(

When he comes to, he's in his bed, rolled over and almost hanging off the side. There's a bucket on the floor below him, a foul-smelling liquid festering at the bottom. The suit is gone; he's only wearing cotton pajama bottoms and a soft, black t-shirt. His head is pounding. Pepper hadn't even been gone for ten minutes, and he'd already relapsed like the pathetic fuck-up he was.

That was Tony Stark's legacy: he could pull himself up from any depth, maybe even tread confidently for a while, but he could never stay afloat forever; he would always sink back deeper than he'd been before. He used to think Afghanistan had been rock bottom. But then palladium poisoning had taken him even deeper, and this new despair makes him realize that he's still falling down the pit. These lows are jagged outcroppings along the way; he hits them and it feels like the end, the lowest low, but it is never long before he discovers how much further he can fall.

Suicide has never been Tony's play. He's too vain for it. And with everything his life has been, it's really what people expected from him eventually; Tony's always refused to be predictable. To be boring. Maybe his death would be just as good as a suicide risk, like that stunt with the Chitauri, but it wouldn't be an overdose. It wouldn't be alcohol poisoning or lying in a bathtub with his wrists sliced open. Nothing to arouse pity or disappointment. He is going to go out with a goddamn bang, and people are going to fucking love him for it. They might call him a hero one day; he doesn't care about that.

When he finally got himself killed going against all odds, it was going to be because Tony goddamn Stark showed them that he didn't bend over for anyone, including himself.

He manages to pull himself out of the bed and promptly falls to his knees. To his complete surprise, someone is instantly at his side to help him. He looks up, and his eyes lock with Bruce's.

"Bruce? Bruce, what are you doing here?" he croaks. His throat burns.

"Pepper called me. You've both been practically MIA for the past few weeks. People were starting to get worried," the scientist replies in his usual quiet way.

"Who?"

"Your team, you idiot," Bruce teases. His mouth twitches into a nervous smile. "All's been pretty quiet lately, not that you've bothered to find out. I've even gotten some time off to see Betty."

"Really?" asks Tony, letting Bruce help him to his feet. He wobbles, and Bruce leads him to the bathroom. He stinks.

"Yeah," Bruce says, somewhat sheepishly. "It's been a while, and I haven't been able to let her know where I've been, but I guess after New York, it was only a matter of time."

"I'm glad you're getting some quality personal time in, buddy."

Bruce does not reply, instead helping Tony out of the sweat-and-vomit pajamas and pushes him gently into the shower. Tony doesn't like how frequent supervised bathing is becoming with him. He begins to scrub himself down and then frowns as he suddenly remembers something.

"Bruce, how the hell did you get in here? I had the whole building on lockdown." Bruce is good, but even he couldn't have broken through Tony's firewall on his own.

"Oh, you know, I just broke down the door. One of the perks of being virtually indestructible when I… when the Other Guy takes charge."

Tony stares at him, looking mortified.

Bruce laughs nervously. "I'm joking. Sorry. Picked up some new toys from SHIELD and hacked you. Sorry about that, too."

Tony's face rapidly sifts through several shades of red and settles on something akin to a Russian three days into his vacation in Florida. Shock, disbelief, then fury course through him like hellfire. The blood is pounding in his veins, and his migraine soars to new heights.

"YOU WHAT?!" he hisses. He doesn't care that he's dehydrated or sick or in pain. He's never been downright hacked before.

"From what Pepper's told me, I thought you might have a freak-out. So I came prepared."

"And the suit?"

"Oh, Jarvis had you out of that by the time I got here. But he couldn't call for help because of the lockdown, you moron." Bruce eyes him warily. "You were really bad for a few hours there, Tony. You look like hell. What in God's name has been going on with you?"

What in God's name… If Bruce only knew. Then another realization hits Tony, and he finds it hard to breathe.

"The lockdown – it's no longer in effect, is it?" he asks urgently, eyes instinctively darting around as though expecting danger.

Bruce stares at him as though he's insane. "What? Of course it isn't. Tony, do you see an army encroaching on the city? Do you see Doom or Strange or Loki anywhere?"

At these words, a tremor visibly shakes Tony. He falls to his knees, the hot water still cascading onto him. Loki. Pepper's gone. He's vulnerable. The god won't touch him while Pepper's around. Tony knows it's to toy with him, to lure him into a false sense of security. Maybe that's why the past few weeks have been so insane. Even after that night in Paris, he could have shaken it off in a few days. Reassured Pepper and put Happy's doubts to rest. Buried himself in work and the Avengers. But as long as he was a wreck, as long as he was with Pepper, he somehow knew Loki would leave him alone. And now he's going to come for Tony.

"Christ, Tony, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Bruce demands, kneeling beside his friend, not caring about the water getting everywhere. "What happened? What's got you so freaked?"

Tony only trembles and sobs. He can't explain his fear to Bruce. Just a relapse of his alcoholism. It wouldn't be the first time for him. PTSD. That was completely believable. And it was even a little true. The urge to drink had been so strong, starting with Paris, and when he indulged, he indulged. And not all of his nightmares were about Loki. Sometimes Yensin, sometimes his rotting heart, even, on the worst nights, that horrifying darkness in space.

"Tony…" Bruce's voice is pleading, and it touches something inside of Tony. Bruce isn't here as a scientist or SHIELD's flying monkey or the Hulk. He's the only friend Tony's got right now. God knows Bruce understands inner demons. He's not one to judge Tony.

Naked, weak, and trembling on the floor of his still-running shower, he's ready in that moment to confess it all, thinking that the fallout will be worth spilling his shameful secrets like draining a festering sore. His lips and tongue actually start to form Bruce's name when Jarvis's alarms suddenly blare.

All thoughts of confession are chased from his mind by sheer terror. This is it, he thinks. He's coming for me.

"Sir," says Jarvis in his ever-stoic voice, "It would appear Mr. Odinson and his brother are on your landing platform."

"Wh-what?" Tony gasps.

"Loki appears to be grievously injured."

Injured? Insanely, Tony's mind switches effortlessly to worry, Loki's hold still strong on him. He knows how twisted that is, to shift instantaneously from fear of Loki to fear for him. He pulls himself up and haphazardly towels off, pulling on cleans pants and a shirt. He's still trembling as he pushes past an equally stunned Bruce, taking the lift down to the platform level without waiting for his friend. He takes a shaky breath just before the door opens to reveal a haunting sight.

Tony's never been weak around blood, but there's just so fucking much of it that he can't steel his stomach against a couple of sickening flips. Thor is sporting a lot of it, but judging by the crumpled figure in his arms, most of it isn't his own. Tony just stares, frozen in shock, as Bruce, emerging from the next lift and going into full-on doctor mode, directs the thunder god to the large work table across the room. Thor lays out his brother as gently as possible, but Loki groans in pain, and it amazingly, unfathomably, pulls on Tony's heartstrings.

"What the hell happened?" Bruce demands of Thor as he works to remove what's left of Loki's complicated armor.

"We were on Jotunheim for diplomatic purposes, and Loki was recognized."

If Bruce doesn't understand what any of that means, it doesn't show. "Jesus, he looks like he's been through a wood chipper."

Horror-struck, Tony feels himself being compelled toward the bloody scene before him. He still has no words, but neither Bruce nor Thor seems to notice him. Peering over Bruce's shoulder, he gets his first good look at Loki's injuries.

At first it's all just blood, but then he sees the deep lacerations and stab wounds. Loki's abdomen is in the worst shape; Tony's sure he can see muscle, bone, even entrails in some places. There is also a deep wound in his thigh, with something broken off inside, glistening beneath the sticky blood. His face is the only recognizable part of him, suffering only mild cuts and bruises. A gash near his temple is still bleeding freely.

"Why the hell did you bring him here?" Bruce snaps as he tries to staunch the flow of blood from the worst wounds. "Surely you have healers on Asgard who can help him?"

Thor shakes his head. "Before I could call on Heimdall, we were transported here. I believe Loki used the last of his strength to do it."

"Why would he do that?" Bruce asks quietly, turning to look at the dumbstruck Tony. "Tony?" But then he notices the pale face and trembling hands. "Oh, Jesus, fuck, you have got to keep it together until he's stabilized. Thor, get him out of here and then help me move Loki."

Thor is reluctant to leave his brother's side, but he sees that Tony's about to pass out, so he takes him by the arm and leads him out of the room. "Come, Stark. The sight disturbs you."

Tony allows himself to be led away, but he doesn't take his eyes off Loki. They make it to the lift before he loses consciousness.

)()()(

For the second time that day, he awakes in his bed after someone else has put him there. Still hung over from his earlier binge, a wave of nausea washes over him, but it's not just the booze. The image of Loki torn apart and bleeding on his table is still burned freshly in his mind, and he barely makes it to the toilet before his stomach empties itself of its meager contents. He stays huddled there for a moment, trembling slightly.

It occurs to him that Loki may already be dead. That possibility overwhelms him, relief and hope rushing through his veins so fast he gasps at the sudden giddiness of it. Loki's death means freedom. Didn't he know, all those months ago, that this game would only end with one of their deaths? Escaping death is what Tony does best, and although he did believe that Loki would finally be his end, it seems his insane luck has held.

But even in this moment of hopeful elation, a pit begins to form in his gut. If there's anyone who can out-survive Tony, it's Loki. He knows what history he's heard from Thor is incomplete, but still it's enough to give Tony an idea of just what he's been dealing with. Loki conjured himself and Thor to Stark Tower not to resign himself to death, but to punish Tony. To remind him of just how strong and how deep his hold is. If he'd really felt he was going to die, he would certainly have taken himself off to Asgard. He wants to show Tony that what he feels is not just fear and hatred, but also need.

Because on some insane, dark level, Tony is intrigued by Loki. His scientist's mind wants to know the mysteries of the universe, and his addict's blood wants the thrill of a good trip. Loki is impressive in his cunning and endurance, and he's a challenge some sick part of Tony is too prideful to back down from. But worst of all, Tony sees a potential mirror of himself. Something frightening inside of Loki touches something like itself in him, and Tony reluctantly admits to himself that he can endure the torture for the chance to understand just what that is.

He pulls himself up from the floor, wobbles, and then hunches over the sink to splash some water on his face. He needs to get a grip, and though it's probably a bad idea, he needs to see Loki. Bruce and Thor still have no idea, absolutely no fucking clue, about how Tony and Loki have been carrying on, and Tony no longer has any desire to spill his secrets. It was just a bad relapse, something triggered his PTSD. They'll believe that. Everyone knows that New York changed him. It's a lie that's so close to truth even he can swallow it.

Tony makes his way down to the lab, the most likely place to find the others. He's got more than enough medical equipment set up there, and he can't see Bruce and Thor wheeling Loki into a hospital. More than anything else, he feels frightened. Frightened that Loki's alive. Frightened he's dead. He can hardly bear the thought of either, and he feels as though he'll explode, but Tony forces himself to keep walking.

When he reaches the lab, Bruce is at the door to intercept him, no doubt warned by Jarvis.

"What's up, doc?" Tony asks, surprising himself with his casual tone.

Bruce isn't amused. "Tony, you have to tell me what the fuck is wrong with you, and you have to tell me now. Loki's stable; he can wait."

That weird mixture of relief and fear wells up in him again, but Tony tamps it down, sliding even now still easily into his greatest talent, acting. Or lying. With Tony, there's no distinction.

His jaw tightens, and he tries to not look at Bruce, clear signs of his discomfort and shame. "I… I've been going through a rough space."

"Yeah, I can see that," says Bruce, his tone more gentle now. "Pepper told me about Paris. I'm sorry, Tony; I didn't know."

Tony shifts his weight from one foot to the other, looking at the floor. "All I've had since I came back from that desert is nightmares. I know it makes them worse, but it's… I just need to be numb." The shame burns through him, not just because he's lying - he actually isn't, to a certain extent - it's because this is a hard confession to make.

Bruce nods. "I understand. You haven't seen me at my lowest, and New York... well, that fucked with all of us."

Tony flinches at the merest mention of it. "Look, I know I fucked up in Paris, and the nightmares have been... awful... But I'm just trying to get through this, alright?"

He can tell that Bruce doesn't doubt his sincerity, but he sure as hell knows Tony isn't telling him everything. But maybe he just thinks Tony is too ashamed to discuss his alcoholism or PTSD in depth. Bruce isn't a shrink. Tony wants to switch the subject back to Loki, and he's spared the effort of contriving an excuse to bring him up by the arrival of Thor.

"Are you well?" the thunder god asks Tony.

Tony shrugs. He's tired, truly exhausted,

"He is asking for you."

)()()(

"Stark," Loki rasps as Tony approaches, alone. He's been laid out on one of the couches, looking strangely small and vulnerable without his armor. Bruce and Thor cleaned all the blood off him, but it only reveals his sickly, pallid skin. Cuts and bruises marr the elegant features of his face, and Tony stifles a whimper at the sight. "Surprised to see me?"

"It's been weeks," Tony says, as though all of Loki's time and thought revolve around his existence. As though he hasn't been dreading the god's reappearance.

Loki just grins maniacally in response. Even looking like he's an inch from death, he's still fucking with Tony.

"Please," Tony begs, unable to stand Loki's silent taunting. "Why are you here? Just leave me be..." He sinks onto the couch beside Loki, awkwardly perching on the edge. "Are you trying to kill me?"

Loki reaches out with a trembling hand and weakly grasps Tony's wrist, pulling him closer.

And Tony let's him do it. He wants to jerk away and run. But he doesn't. He let's Loki pull him in closer. The god strains to lean up, and he brushes his lips briefly, softly against Tony's in a surprising show of affection. That's certainly a first. Tony pulls back a little in surprise.

"I could not..." Loki begins, but his words drift away, like he doesn't have the strength or the courage to say them. But as Loki gently pulls him down to lie beside him, Tony thinks he understands the god's meaning.

He's asleep before the terror of it can grasp him.


End file.
